


Truth Serum Interview

by bookeater_otaku, Shiroyuki9



Category: Hellboy - All Media Types
Genre: Ask a question fanfic, F/M, Humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8754463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookeater_otaku/pseuds/bookeater_otaku, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiroyuki9/pseuds/Shiroyuki9
Summary: A notorious crimiminal know for his illegal web-show called 'Truth Serum Interview' has kidnapped Hellboy and is about to put him in front of the camera. Stuffed with so much truth serum that it's comming out of his ears and about to be interviewed in front of the whole world. But his the world ready to hear it? A 'ask a question' fic!





	

** Truth serum interview. **

 

The world was stuck in front of their computers screens.

 

Ok, nothing new, practically everyone nowadays is glued to the porn box, err... I mean the internet, in some way or another. It would take a decade or two before humanity would discover the alien quantum psychic leach living in it or the fact that the whole network is in fact the embryo of an electric planetary entity bordering on divinity and was using humanity as an unsuspecting nanny.

 

But without knowing all that, a big chunk of said humanity was waiting in front of their screen. Because the new episode of a popular web show was about to be released. But it wasn’t any old web-show: It was illegal. With a twist.

 

An anonymous criminal took upon himself to capture celebrities, politicians and anyone anybody give a damn about and interview them with a live feed on a pirated signal that suddenly appeared on people screen. But the twist was that one being interviewed was drugged with a truth serum and the interviewer had a knack to find all the dirty laundry. The Show was called ‘The Truth Serum Interview’.

 

Some would call the Show a mere criminal act, that the methods used were dangerous and barbaric, that they denied the most basic human rights and was generally regarded as a joke by any journalist worth his salt. Even though the victims were always released afterward without any other harms done to them.

 

What do think happened?

 

The public gobbled it up like free pizza.

 

It wasn’t surprising, with the mass media lying trough its teeth, government controlling information, scandals after scandals, peoples came to distrust any sources of news or became ‘blazé’ enough to not give a ‘flying f*uck’ about anything. In this climate, the Show was a light that cut through the media fog and the Mysterious Masked Reporter was seen as a modern Robin Hood.

 

So periodically, internet viewers would gradually receive announcements, messages and previews of when, who and why of the next ‘Interview’. And despite the early announcements, the police actions or any precautions the targeted person took, the kidnappings were always successful. The kidnapper simply used just about every tricks, gadgets, ingenuity and tactics beyond incredible, always without violence, and the victims were whisked away right underneath the police’s nose and bodyguards where left duped and looking quite stupid afterward every time. It was better than a magic show.

 

This criminal did understand how to make a show. He was a media Houdini.

 

But this time... Oh, this time he’s done it. When he announced his next target, the world stopped breathing for a moment in a collective ‘gasp’. Forget the dirty politicians with the illicit sexual affairs, that female singer with a strange addiction, the serial axe murdering nun that the Vatican tried to cover or all the previous ones that sat on that chair in a drug induced daze, this one blew them all away.  Because nobody ever thought... of the possibility... of him.

 

The Mysterious Masked Reporter wasn’t shy about touchy subjects or news that were dangerous in itself, like the time he kidnapped a known terrorist that the official authorities has been trying to capture for months or the time he took away a murderous general of a warring south Asian country that was put on trial for crimes against humanity after his ‘interview’.

 

But that one... He was almost… Well… An unofficial and undisputed ‘taboo’. Why’s that? Because peoples were not sure if they wanted to hear the truths that he could give, almost afraid, you could say. Already his very existence put many... ‘Things’, in questions...

 

You know who it is now?

 

Nope, it’s not the next Michael Bay movie; come on, that’s not even a person...

 

Nope, Michel Jackson did not come back from the dead, but you’re getting close.

 

Haaaa. You guessed right: Its Hellboy.

 

The elusive character, a living red horned daemon that sporadically appeared here and there when things got weird, save the day and disappear in the sunset of toward even stranger adventures. Hellboy had done interviews before and he made a few appearances on some really known shows and magazines, like the ‘Time’, the ‘Rolling Stones’ or ‘Saturday Night Lives’. But in those interviews, the reporter never dug really deep or the questions were about his personal life, who he was as a person and things like that. They tended to stay away from his job... or his origin.

 

But the Mysterious Masked Reporter… What?  Yes, we are going to refer him as such, the use of the moniker is so widely spread amongst the public by this point that the guy who, at first insisted of staying nameless, took up the name at the public insistence. Really modest of him. Ugh, we’ll shorten it to MMR for convenience… Where were… Oh yes, the MMR was known to ask the questions nobody thought of asking or ask what everyone was too afraid to do so. Forget that the victim work at a secret(ish) government agency that tended to matters better left alone: he in himself was a frigging red horned, tailed, rock right handed, giant that could bench press a truck. Oh and he was a daemon.

 

Did I mention he was a daemon? Yep. If that not a journalistic antipersonnel landmine, I don’t know what it is.

 

But he did it. Nobody even knew where Hellboy was right now, but the announcement said that the show will not be delayed and will air on said time.

 

So that’s why everybody was in front of their screens. Half to see if the media vigilante would deliver and the other half in perverse curiosity.

 

Noon was approaching, lunch was almost there, and the screens were still showing the usual programs. Would he do it? Or would it be the first time the peoples ‘hero’ would fail? Was he caught? The world held their breath.

 

  1. 2\. 1...



 

‘ _Prarappalappapapapaaaaaaaaaap!!!_ ’ The screens turn black one second and the opening sequence of the show scream through the speakers with the gaudy music. The song was cheap as the animation, done by an amateur on a free animation program. For a show that required so much effort, you would think that whoever was behind this would put more effort in the presentation. Some would argue that it gave the Show a certain ‘style’ if put loosely. But I personally think he putted all his money on the gadgets used for the kidnapping and was broke for the rest.

 

The intro ended and the worldwide audience was greeted with the usual set that would have felt more at home on a cheap show from the 80’s. The background was a grey wall with a big tacky stylised sign that proudly announced the name of the Show in vibrant colors of green and blue.

 

In front was a desk similar of the one you would see on the 5 o’clock news but in this case it was of a lesser quality. Like IKEA ever thought to make a desk that could be assemble/disassemble easily for if you have to run for the hill because of the cops, it would not be a huge sacrifice.

 

The dim light got brighter and brighter as the music finished and the camera moved its focus a little to the right to settle on the man sitting behind the desk. He was sporting a grey charcoal suits with a light blue shirt, classy opera glove, what appeared to be a thin ski cowl and completed the ensemble with a plastic Pierrot mask with highlight, also blue. The costume covered every inch of the body, making it impossible to identify the announcer.

 

An electronically modified voice filled the speakers all around the world.

 

* * *

 

At the BPRD headquarter, in a very tense, smoke filled conference room, was a full score of official looking men in suits starring at the screen. Presiding over them was Peter Manning, Director of the Agency and the most pissed off person in the room… if not the world.

 

With a second look, you could tell that not everyone in the room were from the BPRD, adorning badges like with acronym like CIA, Interpol, MI5, RCMP, Bejing and what not. BUT, everybody in the room as been here for a while now, carburetting on stress, coffee, cold Thai takeout and in a dire need of a shower. Documents and papers were thrown about while a white board got filled with reports, forensic results and psychological analysis. A steady stream of grunts were coming and going from the room along with papers, orders or insults, sometime all three. It wasn’t a conference room anymore. It was a boiler room. Since the BPRD best… arguably their best agent disappeared in a very public and giant shower of calico cats, sparkling confetti’s and salacious women underwear’s from a hotel lobby in India. It became a boiler room.

 

Since then, one of the most frantic manhunt to find Hellboy before that maniac made him spill the beans was on its way. A lot was riding on this, explaining the presence of the many agencies around the world. Hellboy was older than he looked and did missions all over the world for a long while and had at one point or another, dipped his nachos in everybody salsa. Asking if he knew some sensitive and politically embarrassing stuff was like asking if the Pope had heard of the bible.

 

Manning was on the edge of his seats, drilling the giant television screen with his hate filled eyes, hoping it could kill the bastard on the other side. But there was something else in them, less than a glint of… not of hope but a wish. That maybe that big lumps would have escaped, beat up the criminal, and it was going to be his sassy face there were going to see, saying he apprehended the culprit and half the world would stop breathing down his neck. A fragile wish indeed.

 

The MMR, began his show.

 

“Good day everyone, this is the Mysterious Masked Reporter and welcome ‘Truth Serum Interview’.” The generic giggles played again in the background and the show animator turned toward another camera. “To those of you not familiar with our program, we at Truth Serum Interview, ask of our guess questions to which everybody wants to know the answer. And to make sure that we get the truth and nothing but the truth our guess are exposed to a truth serum that ensures their full cooperation. To reassure our watcher, no form of tortures will be performed on this program and the guess will be returned unharmed to the proper authorities.”

 

MMR turned back to the original camera; “Today we have a very special guess for you at home. He is a well known celebrity but even then some of you denies his existence, he worked and is still working for the public at the very mysterious and until recently, very secret agency known as the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, to many a hero, to other a big fingers to our very beliefs, Ladies and Gentlemen, let me present you: Hellboy!”

 

The camera panned out, revealing a bound to a chair and ball gaged, red skinned devil with unfocused eyes and looking completely out of it.

 

Manning, in a cry of Rage, propelled the pile of paper in front of him on the floor and got up. “FUUCCCKKKK!” he threw is laptop at the giant window separating the conference room and corridor of the base, where it’s unsatisfyingly bounced off the bulletproof glass.

 

An assistant, braver than the others approached him, “Hum, mister Director, the…” He stopped due to Manning focusing his eyes on him. Swallowing audibly, the assistant continued, “the… the minister of Defence on line one sir. He wants to speak with you. I think he is with the president right now sir.”

 

“FFFFFFFFFF*!”

 

* * *

 

From Bookeater:

Hello everyone and welcome to chapter one on a project of mine that have been on the burner for a long while. I finally decided to finish it, inspiration and wanting to write kicking me in the ass.

For this story I want your cooperation: What do you want to ask Hellboy!

See what was blocking me with this story was that I didn’t knew where I wanted to go. I felt I had a good premise but no direction. That where you, readers, enter. Leave your questions for Hellboy with a review. The best ones are going to be included in this story.

The interest that you reader will give this story will make it continue. No question asked mean no new chapters. I will work on other project instead. But it felt good to finish at least this one.

And I am sorry people, I have been absent far too long, many things in my life preventing me from really sit down and write. Zero motivation for a while, dropping the equivalent of two coffee on my laptop (I have this huge cup/soupbowl), getting a girlfriend, breaking up with her, summer being the most time consuming at my job… a lot of thing. Anyway I am back on the saddles.


End file.
